


Spiritual Assistance

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Halloween, The First Lady and her Ouija Board, Tumblr Prompt, minor spookiness, reference to canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: "On Carol's birthday, did you happen to attend a seance where they tried to contact Margaret's grandmother? No, right?" -Toby, H.Con-172  
Charlie goes to a party.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Tumblr Prompt fic for tinyparlancer, who asked "Write me something Charlie-based?" I actually had this idea kicking around in my head, but I'd forgotten about it until now, and with Halloween coming up, it seemed very appropriate. 
> 
> By the way, I'm running low on prompts and I still need quite a few if I want to write a new fic each day til the election and thus ease my political angst with happy fantasy politics. I'm open to suggestions!

“Come on, Charlie, it'll be fun.” 

“Nope,” Charlie didn't even bother looking up from his desk. He knew if he did, Donna would be pouting at him, and then he might end up doing what she wanted. Stronger men than he had been felled by that face. “Can't do it.” 

“Why not? You've got the weekend off, we all do. Senior staff's with the President at Camp David. It's free time!” Still pouting, not safe.

Charlie bent assiduously over the history book he was highlighting. “Number one, I have a history test coming up that I have to prepare for, especially since I made the mistake of mentioning it to the President. Now I'm getting a test and three or four pop quizzes besides. Number two, because it's my free weekend. I don't think I've had one of those since I started working here. Deena's going to be off with her friends, and I can sit around in my apartment and drink beer as men do. Number three, it's stupid.” 

“It's not stupid!” Pouting was replaced by indignation, and Charlie deemed it safe to look up. Donna was glaring at him. “It's Carol's thirtieth birthday and we're going to do what she wants to do. And since it's almost Halloween, she wants to do something fun and spooky.” 

“So you're inviting me to a séance at Margaret's house because Carol has started her midlife crisis fifteen years early and you're enabling her.” Charlie gave Donna his very best unimpressed face. 

“Yep,” Donna told him, unmoved by his lack of impression. 

“Didn't Carol turn thirty last year? And maybe the year before?” 

“Oh Charlie, you young, young, very young man,” Donna replied sadly, shaking her head. 

“Why do you even want me there?” Charlie asked. “Isn't this a senior assistant thing?” 

“We're all going,” Donna acknowledged, “but it's not just us. Ainsley wants to see a séance, so she's coming, and so is Ed.” 

“Not Larry?” Charlie asked. 

“He has a doctor's note, he's allergic to candles. And Zoey's coming,” Donna added. 

“Zoey's going to be there?” he repeated, suddenly feeling considerably more interested. 

“She's bringing her mom's Ouija board.” 

“The First Lady does not have a Ouija board.” 

“She absolutely does,” Donna insisted. “She got it for one of those How to Host A Murder things back in New Hampshire, and held onto it so she can mock the guys when they start getting too excited about polling data. It was a whole thing on the campaign. She nailed Josh in the head with the planchette one time.” She smiled in fond recollection. 

Charlie snorted. “Okay, that I'll believe. I still don't see why I should be dragged into all this.” 

“Because we want you to come!” Donna pressed. “Your position around here is unique, so you don't have anybody to hang around with at work. And you work all the time, like the rest of us. Just because you're not technically a senior assistant doesn't mean you don't end up with a lot of the same duties and frustrations. We're not going to ask you to gossip about the president or anything like that, just because we're complaining about our bosses,” she promised. “Just come and have fun.” 

He hesitated, torn between the fact that she was right about not having people to hang out with and the fact that he would be hanging out with the senior assistants, Ed, and a lawyer, which wasn't necessarily his ideal party mix. Donna sensed him vacillating and, well-trained by her own boss, moved in for the kill. “And if you come, I won't have to tell Carol that you said you wouldn't come because her thirtieth birthday was three years ago and she's having a midlife crisis.” 

Charlie winced. “There's going to be alcohol, right?” 

“Oh yeah, tons.” 

“Okay, fine, I'm in.” 

“Perfect! Friday at nine, Margaret's house. I'll print you off a map.” He watched as Donna bounced victoriously on her toes before speeding back to work, then turned back to his highlighting with a sigh. At least Zoey was going to be there. She hadn't actually technically broken up with him, but for months now they'd been missing each others calls and too busy for dates. Maybe if they could just get together in person, they'd be able to talk things out. Maybe in a perfect world, they could do that and miss the séance altogether. 

Margaret, Charlie quickly realized on Friday evening, did not follow convention when it came to her living spaces any more than she followed convention anywhere else. She was not only way beyond the Beltway, she was damn near beyond the reach of the Metro altogether. He decided to brave the traffic and drive, rather than risk getting caught in rural Maryland in the middle of the night. Her place was sort of cute, though, a little caretaker's cottage behind a much bigger estate, something left over from the Gilded Age if he remembered his skimmed history book right. The driveway was packed so he had to park along the road in the grass, but as soon as he got out he could smell good food smells coming from the house. He began to feel better about his choice to attend. 

A Secret Service agent gave him the once-over before he entered, which let him know that Zoey was already present. He walked in and handed his six-pack of beer to Carol, who cheered and gave him an enthusiastic hug for coming to her party-slash-seance. Donna and Bonnie were in the kitchen arguing over how much beer was necessary for beer cheese dip, based on whether one hailed originally from Wisconsin or Kentucky, while Ginger meticulously assembled a small mountain of brownies onto a serving platter. It looked like Ed had been drafted into moving chairs around, so Charlie joined him. “Interesting party, huh?” 

“Oh yeah,” Ed said brightly. “I love seances. I was this close to getting into the audience at a taping of Crossing Over once, but the line was too long. Next best thing, right?”

“Right,” Charlie agreed with a notable lack of enthusiasm. He looked up as Zoey came into the room, but she just gave him a nervous smile and a little finger-wave before disappearing out the back again with Ainsley, Ginger, and her agent. He considered following, but decided to play it cool. The night was young, plus he still had a chance to miss the séance this way. He ambled into the kitchen for a beer and some food. 

An hour and a half later, considerably more relaxed after a couple beers and some food (the senior assistants definitely had better food at their parties than at most of the birthdays he attended), Charlie trailed after the group as they headed towards the barn-type outbuilding that hulked in the back of the property. “What's the story with this place?” he asked Margaret. “How'd you get set up here?” 

“Oh, it's mine,” Margaret told him earnestly. “It belonged to my grandparents until they died and passed it along to me. I don't need all the space, so I rent out the main house to Senators, mostly. It's haunted, but my grandmother hated politicians so she doesn't make herself known to them very often. I'm hoping to contact her tonight.” 

Charlie did his best to keep a straight face. He was very good at it after listening to the President's monologues. “And what do you plan to ask her about?” 

“I want her to tell me where the septic tank is in the backyard. The plumbing is getting very touchy and I don't want to have to dig up the landscaping,” Margaret replied with a definitive nod. 

Charlie had to admit that if one were going to contact a ghost, there were probably worse reasons. “Hope it works out for you.” 

“It will. I have a very good feeling about this.” With a smile, Margaret marched ahead to the front of the group and opened the barn doors. The Secret Service had already been through, as apparently had Zoey's gang; there were candles arranged in a circle in the middle of the dusty floor and an agent was sitting on the edge of the hayloft, bemused but alert. “Okay everyone, sit down in the circle!” 

Charlie made his way over to Zoey's side. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked quietly. 

She gave him a look he couldn't quite interpret. “Not right now, we'll miss the séance,” she replied, equally quietly. 

“To be honest, I sort of consider that a feature, not a bug,” 

Zoey rolled her eyes at him and pulled him to sit on the floor next to her. “Talk to me afterwards.” 

At the head of the circle, Margaret and Carol engaged in a few moments of sotto voce “you do it,” “no you do it,” arguing, before turning back to the group. “Okay,” said Carol, “since it's my birthday, I guess I'm on the hook. To warm us up, we're going to try and get in touch with a ghost we know is close by because she lives here, and Margaret wants to ask her about the plumbing. Everybody hold hands and close your eyes, and think about Margaret's grandmother.” 

Charlie obediently took Zoe's hand, and Ginger's on his left, but he didn't close his eyes until Zoey hissed at him. He felt entirely ridiculous, but at least if they were all being ridiculous together, nobody had any fodder for blackmail. “Oh spirits of the great beyond,” Carol called out, and next to him Charlie could hear Ginger snicker, so at least he wasn't entirely alone in this, “We call on you to show yourselves, particularly if Margaret's grandmother- what's her name?” 

“Margaret Hooper,” Margaret whispered loudly. 

“Wait, really?” Carol asked. 

“Shh!” 

“Fine. Particularly if Margaret's grandmother Margaret is haunting this place, we'd really like to talk to her. Okay, we're going to put our fingers on the planchette...” The circle was too big for everyone to get a hand on the tool, but with some shifting around, Margaret, Carol and Donna all got their fingertips on it. “Is there a spirit presence here?” 

The planchette began to move, scraping its way across the board. Margaret squealed in surprise. It made its way to the letter Y, then lurched to the E, then in the general direction of S, though it landed more on U. “It said yes!” Donna announced. 

“There's a yes-no option on the board,” Margaret told the thin air above them. You don't have to spell it out.” 

“Ask your question!” Carol urged. 

“Right,” Margaret agreed. “Ah, Grammy, where's the septic tank in the backyard? It needs pumped and I can't remember where it is.” 

Charlie watched as the planchette seemed to quiver for a minute under the fingertips of the three women. Suddenly it began moving again, spelling out “h-i-a-c-i” with Carol breathlessly announcing each letter. 

“That doesn't spell anything,” Charlie pointed out, even as the planchette added an “n” and a “t.” 

“Grammy was a terrible speller,” Margaret admitted, shaking her head. “Oh! I know what it is! The hyacinths! They're all over in the backyard, it must be under some of them!” She looked delighted. 

There was general hubbub as people weighed in on this development. Ainsley was convinced that somebody was deliberately steering the planchette, but Zoey was ready to go out in the dark and start digging up flowers right then and there. Charlie raised his eyebrows as he caught Donna, her head still bent over the board, grinning slightly. He suspected he knew where the fix was on this one. Donna was also not a fantastic speller. 

“Guys, let's not let the spiritual energy dissipate!” Carol reminded them. “We might still be able to contact somebody else! Hold hands.” Amused now, Charlie kept hold of Zoey and Ginger's hands, watching to see what was going to happen next. 

This time, Margaret did the talking. “Oh spirits of the great beyond,” she began again, and this time Ginger's shoulders actually shook from trying not to laugh. “Today is Carol's birthday and we are all here to celebrate with her. If there are spirits who have passed from this world who love Carol and would like to communicate with us, we ask that you come forward in an orderly fashion and with no scary weirdness please.” 

The planchette slid forward suddenly, very quickly, off the board entirely and onto the floor. Even Donna looked surprised, Charlie noticed. “Whoops,” Carol muttered. She picked it up and dusted it off. 

“Guys?” Bonnie asked from the other side of the circle, where she'd been observing with almost as much amusement as Charlie. She looked puzzled now. “Does anybody else smell something?” 

Charlie took an experimental sniff, smelling musty barn and candle wax, and... something else. A very familiar scent, one that immediately made him think of the outer office and his terrifying, thrilling first days of work. 

“I smell cookies!” Ainsley announced. “Oatmeal raisin, maybe?” 

“Yeah,” Ginger murmured. “It smells like oatmeal raisin cookies.” 

Carol looked a little stunned. “Oatmeal raisin cookies are my favorite. Mrs. Landingham gave me a whole box of them last year on my birthday.” She hastily put the planchette back down on the board, but it remained still while the scent of cookies lingered, surprisingly strong now, like a batch fresh from the oven. “I love you too, Mrs. L,” she called to the empty air, her voice a little choked. “We all miss you so much, but we're taking care of the President for you. He's going to get reelected this year, and we'll make you proud.” Next to Charlie, Zoey sniffled. He stroked the back of her hand lightly with his thumb and didn't know what to think. 

A chilly breeze swept in from the open barn door, extinguishing a few of the candles, and gradually the smell began to fade away. Nobody said anything for several very long minutes. “There's more alcohol in the house,” Margaret finally announced. “I suggest we go drink it.” 

This idea met with general approval. The rest of the candles were blown out, and everyone began moving hastily back towards the warmth and relative normalcy of Margaret's cottage. Charlie caught Donna by the elbow as they walked, pulling her back with him. “You moved the planchette,” he murmured without preamble. 

“Margaret told me what she was going to 'ask the spirits',” Donna admitted in a murmur. “If you look at the back of the house, you can totally see the plumbing waste line vent in the back wall. The tank is going to be in line with that, and probably ten to twenty feet from the house. If she pokes around in those hyacinths, she's going to find it.” 

“You couldn't just tell her that?” 

“It was more fun this way,” Donna replied with a little smile. 

“What about the other thing?” he pressed. “How did you-” 

“It wasn't me,” she said quickly. He gave her a disbelieving look, and she frowned at him. “I'm serious, Charlie! I wouldn't joke about something like that. We knew her, and it hasn't even been a year... it would be disrespectful and- and mean! I don't know what that was,” she admitted, “but it kind of freaked me out.” 

“Yeah,” Charlie muttered, and headed into the house. He snagged another beer, figuring this had better be his last one if he was planning on driving himself home. One of Zoey's agents was standing just inside the back door so he headed that way and found Zoey sitting on the stoop, shivering a little in her windbreaker and staring into the dark. “You okay?” 

“I don't want to talk now, Charlie,” she told him softly. “I know we have stuff we need to talk about, but I can't tonight.” 

He sat down and put an arm around her, and she let him. “That's okay,” he told her. “I know you miss her.” 

“She was like my grandma,” Zoey whispered. “She was around my whole life, and she was the only one who could boss Dad around besides my mom. When I was little and my dad was in Congress, we'd go up to visit him in Washington. When he had to go in for a vote or something, I'd stay at Mrs. Landingham's desk and play with her stamps or bang on the typewriter or the adding machine. She taught me to play cards. I miss her so much!” 

Zoey turned her face against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. “You liked the oatmeal raisin too,” he remembered. “I used to steal them for you.” 

“Yeah,” she sniffled. 

“I think that message can't have been just for Carol,” Charlie decided, pushing aside his many doubts and questions for the moment. “She loved you like family.” 

“She was our family,” Zoey agreed. 

“Then it's a nice message,” Charlie decided. He pulled the napkin he'd grabbed earlier out of his pocket and shook a few crumbs off it. Zoey laughed at him a little but accepted it anyway to blow her nose. “You wanna go back inside? It's cold as hell out here.” 

“And I thought you were so rugged,” Zoey teased, getting to her feet with him. 

“I am rugged,” he told her, keeping his arm around her shoulder. “I am a rugged yet sensitive man of the new millennium. I read that in a magazine.” 

“You're something, all right,” She pulled away, but not without giving his hand a quick, grateful squeeze. “Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” Charlie opened the door for her to go inside, but lingered himself for a moment, scanning the darkness of the yard around them. For a moment, he swore he could still smell cinnamon. With a small smile, he shook his head and went inside.


End file.
